Possibilities
by Inignokt
Summary: Draco+ Hermione are forced to work on a DADA project together. Draco, obviously, is none too pleased. But- what if he starts to see 'Granger' in a different light? Denial, hilarity, romance, and madness ensue.
1. The Assignment

Chapter One  
  
Hmm. Crabbe or Goyle. which one was smarter. Draco Malfoy wrinkled his nose, glancing back and forth at his two "associates". Come to think of it, neither of them was particularly bright. In fact, they were both dumb as rocks. He turned to look around the dusty classroom, trying to appear casual.  
  
He was still trying to decide who would be his partner for their monthly Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment when the new teacher, Professor Nightshade, pounded her fist on her desk. Nightshade had a bit of a temper.  
  
"My god! People! Shut up for one minute before I crucio all of you!"  
  
The class fell remarkably silent. No one seemed to doubt Professor Nightshade's willingness to curse them into submission. She might not use of the Forbidden Curses, as she threatened, but at the beginning of the year Draco recalled her firing some charm on Neville Longbottom that gave him bunny ears and a fluffy white tail for three days. Draco himself tried to remain on Nightshade's good side. He had been turned into a ferret by their last Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the experience was one he would like to forget.  
  
Nightshade sighed. "That's a bit better," she said, a dangerous glint still in her eyes. "Well. I know you're all excited about choosing partners for our next project. However, last month, when I let you pick your own groups, the completed assignments were mediocre at best, and you spent all of the time I gave you in class to work on it gossiping and giggling about who's- dating-who and such nonsense. As fascinating as you may find such a topic, I really don't care if Ron Weasley has a crush on Hermione Granger or not." A murmur rose among the students. Yes, Lavender, I saw that note to Parvati. It was accidentally stuck in the project notebook you turned in to me." Nightshade paused and continued explaining how positively awful last month's projects on vampires had been, but Draco was to busy thinking about Ron and Hermione together to notice.  
  
Draco snickered into his hand. He glanced at Weasely, seated directly in front of him, whose ears had turned bright red. The girl next to him, Granger, her face nearly hidden behind that mass of bushy hair, looked entirely surprised. What a couple. Granger was a mudblood and Weasley was so poor that his entire family barely had two Knuts to rub together. Their children would be lovely. He snorted, imagining a family of freckle-faced little children with enormous masses of bushy red hair wearing too-small hand-me-down robes.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy!"  
  
Draco looked up in surprise. Nightshade looked pretty pissed off.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" he asked calmly.  
  
"I'm not sure why you find it comical that you, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Goyle received a 58% on your "Vampires: They Really Suck" report. Aside from the obvious bad pun, your essay had the absolute worst spelling and grammar I've ever seen come from a fifth-year student." She glared at him. "May I continue now?"  
  
Draco bit his lip to keep from laughing. He still couldn't the image out of his mind. "Er. yes, Professor Nightshade, of course."  
  
"Good." Nightshade turned her gaze off of Draco and addressed the rest of the class. "Anyway, I'm afraid that this time, you will be divided into assigned pairs."  
  
The entire class groaned. "It's not fair," whined more than one angry student.  
  
"PEOPLE!"  
  
Silence. Many pairs of eyes turned once more to Nightshade, who was fuming.  
  
"If you can prove yourselves capable of handling this sort of assignment, I may rethink my position and allow you to work with a partner of your choosing on the next one. That is, of course, if you can keep quiet for more than five seconds at a time."  
  
More silence. Draco counted inside his head. one-one-thousand two-one- thousand three-one-thousand four-one-thousand.  
  
So much for staying on Nightshade's good side today. He just couldn't resist. Draco raised his hand.  
  
The rest of the class turned to marvel at Draco. Why was he-  
  
Nightshade scowled. "What, may I ask, is the problem, Mr. Malfoy?  
  
"It's been more than five seconds now, Professor."  
  
Everyone started laughing. Well, except for Nightshade, who was positively bursting with anger by this point. "THAT IS IT, MR. MALFOY!" Her left hand shout out straight towards the door of the classroom. "STAND OUT THERE. NOW!"  
  
Draco sighed, but trotted out into the hall, grinning maliciously. He would probably get detention for this, but it was worth it, really, for the class's reaction and the look on Nightshade's face.  
  
A few moments later, Professor Nightshade flew out into the hall and slammed the door. "You've disrupted my class twice today, Mr. Malfoy," she said, her voice low. "Normally you're behavior is at least halfway decent." She paused. "It seems to make up for your grades- which, by the way, are dangerously low this week, I might add. You'd do well to raise them before progress reports are issued. I highly doubt that your father will be pleased."  
  
Actually, Lucius Malfoy didn't give a damn about what his son scored in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that was another story, and one that Draco was not prepared to discuss with Professor Nightshade. He sighed and put on a pouting face. "I'm sorry, Professor," he apologized as solemnly as he could. "I don't know what's gotten into me." He searched mentally for a good excuse. Hmm. After a second he decided to play on Nightshade's maternal instincts, deeply buried though they may be. "Family problems, you know," he said softly. "My mum and dad." He let his voice trail off wistfully, pleased with his own dramatic performance.  
  
Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Nightshade's face seemed to soften just a tiny bit. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy," she said, still frowning. "However, you would do well to leave your family issues at home next time." She opened the door. "In," she ordered.  
  
Draco nodded meekly and walked purposefully back to his desk. When he got there, he winked at Crabbe and Goyle, who sniggered stupidly. Draco wondered if they even knew why they were laughing.  
  
Nightshade stood once again behind her tall mahogany desk. "Right then." she muttered, gathering up her thoughts. "Ah. Yes. Partners for the assignment. well, let's see, now." She glanced around the room. "Mr. Finnigan, you and Mr. Thomas scored surprisingly well on that report. You two can work together again if you wish." Dean and Seamus high-fived each other, grinning. Some other students began to complain, then seemed to think better of it and shut up before Nightshade got a chance to reprimand them. The teacher seemed pleased.  
  
"Okay, now. Ms. Brown, let's have you work with Mr. Weasley. Mr. Crabbe, how about you with Ms. Patil."  
  
Weasley doesn't seem too pleased about that, thought Draco with a smirk. Nightshade continued down the rows,  
  
".Mr. Goyle, I'd like you to work with Mr. Potter."  
  
Well, that's an interesting combination.  
  
".and finally, I think I'll have Ms. Granger go with you, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco's jaw dropped. Damn it! Not the mudblood! Well- to be honest, she was the smartest girl he'd ever met- well, besides one or two Ravenclaws, but- still- no! They couldn't stand each other! The injustice of it all! He could just kill Nightshade-  
  
The teacher glanced around the room, checking to see if she'd left anyone out. "Ah, yes, Ms. Parkinson? You can choose- would you like to work alone or with Malfoy and Granger?"  
  
Oh, just great. Not only would he have to deal with Granger, he'd have that little pug-faced freak trailing about after him all day. As though he didn't already. Pansy worshiped Draco. at first, he'd enjoyed the attention, but he soon realized that he didn't need her, and her constant whining and simpering drove him absolutely nuts. He glared at Nightshade, but she didn't seem to notice. Or care.  
  
Please let her decide to work alone, he prayed fervently. PLEASE.  
  
Draco Malfoy didn't pray often. But now was a time that called for desperate measures.  
  
But of course, Pansy was more than delighted to work with Draco. Granger was another story, but anything to work with Draco.  
  
He sighed. This was going to be a long project. 


	2. Cooperation?

A/N: I originally wrote this back in July 2002, before OotP was ever  
scheduled for release, and it was intended to be set in the 5th year... that's changed now, obviously, so I s'pose you can either consider it 6th  
or 7th year or A/U. Whatever floats your boat. ;-)  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Pansy practically leapt over to Draco. "I'm so glad I at least have you as a partner," she said, "instead of that." She nodded her head toward Granger, who was walking over to their little table, not looking pleased. Draco nodded absently. He was busy going over in his mind the various ways he could get out of doing this project. I don't even know what the assignment is, he realized.  
  
He turned to Pansy. "D'you know what we're supposed to be doing?" he asked, making sure he sounded utterly bored out of his mind and not at all interested in the assignment. He wasn't, really, but he felt more in control of the situation if he knew what was going on.  
  
Pansy sighed. "No," she said emphatically. "Maybe the Brain over here will know." She giggled wildly at her own stupid joke as Hermione sat down, looking prim. Draco just rolled his eyes.  
  
Hermione cleared her throat.  
  
Draco glared at her. "What is it, Granger? Ready to take charge already? I mean, we know you're so much smarter than us. Might as well do the whole project yourself."  
  
Pansy snickered, although there was nothing really to laugh at. Draco would've liked to smack her, but he couldn't hit a girl. Despite the fact that this particular girl grated on his nerves in the worst of ways. Perhaps Granger would do it. She'd had no qualms about hitting him before.  
  
The Gryffindor girl made a small tutting sound. "I imagine we ought to get started on the project. It seems quite involved, don't you think?"  
  
Draco stared blankly at her. "Care to elucidate a bit further, Granger?"  
  
Hermione frowned. "You don't even know what the assignment is, do you?" she asked exasperatedly.  
  
"Of course not," muttered Draco lazily. "That's what you're here for."  
  
Pansy giggled. Draco shot her a dangerous look. She was ruining his opportunities for sarcasm. Her laughter stopped abruptly.  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. "Well," she said loudly, "perhaps you'd like to know what we're supposed to be working on."  
  
"That would be nice," drawled Draco.  
  
Hermione picked up the piece of parchment and began to read aloud. "'The treatment of werewolves as dark creatures throughout magical history is a topic of much debate. Should existing laws, such as the Sentient Beast Anti- Wand Legislations, limiting the ability for werewolves to remain a part of wizarding society, be kept in place? Should werewolves be required to register with the Ministry of Magic? Choose a side in the debate on werewolf rights and defend your stance through textual references, past courtroom cases, newspaper articles, interviews, etc. Present the material in a creative and professional matter. You will be graded on how convincing your argument is and on how well it has been presented.'"  
  
"What does this have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Draco. "We did werewolves years ago. Shouldn't we be learning about curses and stuff?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "These are important issues! Just like house elves, they ought to be treated bett-"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes again. "Get off your high horse, Granger." He sighed. "Let's get back on topic, shall we?"  
  
"Well, I think our 'stance' is pretty obvious," offered Pansy. "Werewolves are monsters. They have no business being around peop-"  
  
"That's not true," said Hermione. "Professor Lupin was the best teacher we'd ever had. He-"  
  
"Yeah," said Draco doubtfully, "He was fine, when he remembered to take that potion. But we all know that he forgot, that one night."  
  
"You don't know the whole story," snapped Hermione. "It wasn't his fault. Professor Snape brought the potion out and then everything happened so fast that it was no wonder Professor Lupin didn't get a chance to drink it."  
  
Draco shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said defensively. "He should've been more responsible. He might have killed someone."  
  
"Like you would have cared if he did, as long as it wasn't you!" said Hermione, her voice rising. "All you care about is yourself!"  
  
Draco raised one silvery blonde eyebrow. He'd never known Granger was so feisty. Well, there was the time that she'd slapped him. but he'd always assumed that had just been a one-time shot. Pansy, meanwhile, was watching this with a slightly confused expression on her face. She didn't seem to know how to jump in to the conversation.  
  
He frowned at Hermione. "Whatever," he muttered. "I suggest we take a vote. Who thinks we ought to oppose the werewolves?"  
  
"I do," said Pansy enthusiastically.  
  
Draco nodded. "I agree. Granger?"  
  
Hermione just crossed her arms. "Hmph."  
  
"Majority rules, Granger."  
  
"I have values to uphold. Something you probably wouldn't know anything about."  
  
He had to admit, the girl was stubborn. He had to give her credit for- no! God, she was a mudblood after all! But, unlike Pansy, she didn't cave for him, which was rather refreshing. Not that he really cared.  
  
"Sorry, Granger, go talk to Professor Nightshade if you've got a problem with it. See if you can't whine yourself into another group."  
  
"Yeah," responded Pansy.  
  
He was this close to just whacking that girl right in the face. Couldn't she keep her stupid mouth shut for a minute? I'm beginning to sound like Nightshade, he thought.  
  
Hermione was obviously seething. "I'll stay," she said angrily, "but only because Professor Nightshade doesn't like me very much and I don't feel like dealing with her right now." She paused. "You should be begging me to stay, anyway. It's not like you're going to get much done without me."  
  
Draco ignored her comments and grabbed a piece of parchment. "Right then." He wrote their names at the top of it with his peacock-feather quill and tossed it to Hermione. "Do your thing, Granger," he said lazily, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"What?" the girl exclaimed. "You expect me to-"  
  
"Yeah, Granger, we do," said Draco. "After all, 'it's not like we're going to get much done without you.'" He smirked, testing her, waiting to see her reaction.  
  
But Hermione seemed to know what he was doing and skipped right over the remark. She glanced at her watch. "Class is almost over. We ought to meet in the library later on, maybe after dinner."  
  
"I'm not doing any more work today," said Draco, just waiting for Pansy to chime in with her usual, "Yeah!"  
  
She did, and it took all his willpower to keep from slapping her right in her pug-nosed little face.  
  
"What are you talking about? We haven't done anything yet!"  
  
Draco yawned. "Tomorrow. It's Saturday." He sighed heavily, as though it was really paining him to do schoolwork on the weekend, enjoying the incredulous look on Hermione's face. ".but I think I can manage. Four o'clock, we'll meet in the library." He stood up and stretched just as the bell rang to signal the end of the period. He flashed a devious little grin over his shoulder and left the classroom, not even realizing what he had just-  
  
What had he just done?  
  
He'd just smiled at Hermione Granger. The Mudblood. The Gryffindor.  
  
Ugh.  
  
Draco shuddered and walked more quickly toward the Great Hall for lunch, not realizing until he got there that Crabbe and Goyle were not behind him.  
  
What the hell was wrong with him today? 


	3. The Library

Chapter Three  
  
Draco left the Slytherin common room about five minutes after four o'clock the following afternoon. Granger and Parkinson could wait a few minutes, he decided. With a bit of luck, Hermione would've started the project already and it would all be over with before he knew it. But one thing was troubling him still. Why on earth had he grinned at Hermione Granger? It was incredibly uncharacteristic of him. but he hadn't done it on purpose, had he? It was some sort of subconscious reaction. but to what? It couldn't simply be out of habit; Draco Malfoy didn't smile often, at anyone. Smirk, maybe. But grin? No. Draco sighed and pushed the un-thought ideas out of his mind, turning instead to the prospect of the start of Quidditch practice later that afternoon. With a bit of luck, this year he would have the pleasure of kicking Potter's ass out on the field. Draco hummed to himself as he threw open the large double doors that lead to the library. Madame Pince scowled at him as he entered. Apparently his coming had disrupted the library's dull, dusty silence. He ignored the librarian's frown and sauntered back towards the Magical Law department they had agreed to meet in.  
  
Sure enough, Hermione was there, scribbling madly with a quill. Pansy was watching her, apparently fascinated by someone who actually knew how to do schoolwork. The Slytherin girl looked up as Draco settled down in one of the hard wooden chairs at their table and beamed.  
  
"Draco! I was worried about you! Where've you been?"  
  
"Playing cards." Draco yawned. "Get any work done?"  
  
Hermione's bushy-haired head shot up, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she snapped. "No thanks to you, I might add. You're ten minutes late!"  
  
Draco glanced up at the clock above Hermione's head. "Actually, I'm only nine minutes and forty-nine seconds late." He smirked. (Not a grin! he thought to himself, pleased.) "Ooh, burn, eh, Granger? Finally wrong about something?"  
  
Hermione scowled and ignored his remark. "I need to find another book on Sentient Beast law in France," she said. "I'm comparing the results of the more liberal program in place there to the stricter one here."  
  
Draco shrugged. "That's nice. Remind me again why I care?"  
  
Hermione appeared ready to burst with exasperation. "Because its your grade, as well, even though I'm writing the whole damn essay!"  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well, well, well, Miss Granger, I never knew you had it in you." Inside, he was quite surprised. He'd never heard the normally mild-mannered Gryffindor swear before. Hmm. He grinned. (NO! It was a smirk!) "I'm shocked!"  
  
Pansy giggled.  
  
"I don't have time for this, Draco. Since you've obviously nothing better to do, would you mind fetching me that book?"  
  
"Oh, certainly. At your service," he responded caustically, and rose from the chair. Pansy sat there, looking dumb.  
  
"Don't just sit there," whispered Hermione to her, apparently taking note of Madame Pince's angry stares as she lowered her voice, "go and help him."  
  
Pansy rolled her eyes and stood up as if it was the most difficult thing she'd ever done in her life. Draco, meanwhile, was walking quickly, hoping that if he moved fast enough she might not be able to catch up with him. It was all in vain.  
  
"My God," muttered Pansy, following him like a lost puppy, "I can't stand that girl!"  
  
"I know the feeling," he replied, thinking of not only Hermione, but Pansy as well.  
  
Pansy shook her head. "She's such a know-it-all. Filthy little mudblood thinks she's better than-"  
  
"Be quiet for a minute, Pansy, I'm trying to find something."  
  
"You mean you're actually going to do what she says? Ew, Draco-"  
  
Draco ignored her and rummaged through the rows. He couldn't believe it himself, but a small part of him had just gained a tiny bit of respect for Hermione. The way she stood up to him and wouldn't take any of his shit. The way she snapped back at him and refused to back down- unlike a certain pug-nosed girl who was reminding him more and more of a dog everyday.  
  
Shut up! She's not even a half-blood! She's Muggle-born! She shouldn't even be allowed to attend Hogwarts, let alone order you around! You come from one of the oldest lines in wizard history, and you want to taint yourself by hanging around that?  
  
No. Of course he didn't.  
  
Not at all. 


	4. Disruption and Detention

Chapter Four  
  
Draco, Hermione, and Pansy had agreed not to meet on Sunday, but to wait until Monday morning when Professor Nightshade had promised to give the fifth-years time during class to work on their projects. Hermione was nearly done with it already, anyway, having decided that it was better to do the entire thing herself this time and hope that she'd have better partners the next time.  
  
Monday came and Draco made his way up from the dungeons where he'd just had his Potions class to Nightshade's classroom in one of the eastern towers. Hermione was already seated next to Pansy, who was absently doodling hearts all over her sheaf of parchment. He slunk down into the empty seat, next to Hermione. Pansy looked up. "Hi, Draco," she said with a smile. "Move your chair over here, by me." Pause. "Pleeeease?"  
  
Draco cringed. Caught between the lesser of two evils- Pansy or Hermione. Pansyorhermione. Pansyhermionepansyhermionepansy- He set his jaw and stayed where he was. Hermione looked mildly surprised but said nothing. Pansy, meanwhile, pouted. "Draco-" she began, her voice painfully whining.  
  
"Would you shut up?" hissed Hermione. "You heard what Professor Nightshade said. She has a headache and if she hears anyone talking above a whisper she'll-"  
  
As if on cue, their teacher looked up from her desk, where she was resting her head in her hands. "That's it. Detention, Miss Granger! See me after class; we'll work out the details."  
  
Draco watched Hermione's face flush bright red. She stared down at her hands, blinking rapidly. He scowled and raised his hand.  
  
Nightshade lifted her head up once more, eyes narrowed. "What, Mr. Malfoy.?"  
  
"You know, Professor. Hermione was only talking because she was trying to tell Pansy-" here he jerked his head in the Slytherin girl's direction "-to be quiet, as per your orders." Draco stopped, not sure why he'd just stood up for. for a Gryffindor, of all people! He should've been pleased that one of them was finally getting blamed for something unfairly. It happened to Slytherins all of the time, and none of them seemed to care. He glanced around the room and found that everyone was staring at him. Hermione had looked up, the bewildered look on her face mirroring exactly what Draco felt at the moment.  
  
"Since you seem to feel so strongly for Miss Granger's well-being, Mr. Malfoy, I'll see to it that you can accompany her to detention this evening."  
  
Draco's mouth fell open. "WHAT? Professor, I was only trying to help-" "Mr. Malfoy, tattling is something I wouldn't expect from a first-year. Sit down."  
  
Draco hadn't even realized he'd been standing. He practically fell into his seat. So much for dignity.  
  
He glanced from Pansy to Hermione. Both were positively seething with anger.  
  
What does she have to be angry about? he wondered, watching Hermione. I just defended her!  
  
Women.  
  
Wait. He hadn't defended Hermione. He'd only tried to get Pansy punished. There was a big difference there.  
  
Of course. Ha! That was it.  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Detention was to be served in the trophy room, cleaning the various statues and awards, as Professor Nightshade's headache had been too bad for her to come up with one of her normally creative punishments. Draco saw Hermione walking ahead of him as he turned a corner up from the dungeons on the way there. "Hey! Granger!"  
  
Hermione turned around sharply. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough already?"  
  
Draco blinked. "What? I tried to help you back there!"  
  
"No, you didn't. I already had detention. You only made it worse by forcing me to serve it with you."  
  
Wow. Feisty there, eh, Granger?  
  
"What're you talking about? I wanted to help you get out of detention so Pansy would have to serve it instead!"  
  
Granger rolled her eyes. "Right. You were trying to set me up for some sort of trick. I know you, Draco."  
  
"Some sort of trick? What are you? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Granger. How could I- "  
  
Hermione sighed exasperatedly and stormed ahead.  
  
"Granger!"  
  
She ignored him again.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Why did he even care what she thought of him? It had never been an issue before.  
  
"What's the matter, Granger? Cat got your tongue?"  
  
Hermione wheeled around a second time. "Look, Malfoy," she said pointedly, "if you're going to bother me like this you might do well to actually use my name. It's Hermione, you know."  
  
Draco opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again. "Fine- Hermione," he emphasized. Huh. He'd never bothered with her first name before. Why now?  
  
A look of surprise passed over Hermione's face, and then faded as quickly as it had first come as she turned away, mumbling under her breath. Draco started to run after her, then stopped himself and continued at his usual sauntering pace. No need to seem too eager about-  
  
About what?  
  
Hermione turned a corner, bringing her profile into Draco's line of vision. In the silvery pool of moonlight pouring in from one of the elaborate picture windows, she looked almost pretty- no! He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Shaking his head in disbelief at the strange way he'd been behaving lately, he followed her into the trophy room. Filtch was waiting there. He handed each of them a rag and a bottle of Muggle cleaning fluid.  
  
"But can't we use magic?" asked Draco, not sure what to do.  
  
Filtch sneered. "Cleanin' by hand makes the trophies nice 'n shiny," he explained. "Spoiled little wizards." he murmured, starting to leave. Hermione had already begun polishing a large golden statue in the corner. Draco stood there, glancing from the rag to the cleaning solution. Filtch saw him as he passed and stuck his head through the door. "You! Pretty boy! Get to work!"  
  
Draco scowled and cautiously sprayed the air around a small plaque with cleaning fluid. He set the rag on top of the plaque and pulled out his wand. "Hygenium rin-"  
  
Hermione glared at him out of the corner of her eye as Filtch burst through the doorway. "I SAID NO MAGIC!" he exclaimed, snatching Draco's wand out of his hand. Draco gaped. "Give that back!" he ordered. "You have no right-"  
  
"You'll get it back when you've cleaned every trophy in this room, and by hand, this time, I might add."  
  
"I'll be telling my father about this!" Draco shouted. "That's one of the finest wands ever made- cost more than you'll make all year- and if you so much as touch it-"  
  
Filtch just shook his head and left, mumbling something about "stupid little nancy-boy wizards". Draco scowled.  
  
"Did you see what that idiot did?!" He turned to Hermione, who, he suspected, was smiling. "The bastard- if he doesn't give me back my wand in perfect condition-"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Don't you know? Filtch hates all of us because we're learning magic and he's never been able to do it. He's a Squib. That's why he cleans everything the Muggle way-"  
  
Draco sprayed the plaque he was supposed to be cleaning again and picked up the rag. He rubbed cautiously at the shiny metal surface. "Hey, Granger, am I doing this right?"  
  
Hermione cleared her throat.  
  
"I mean, Hermione-"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Am I doing this right?"  
  
"How should I know?"  
  
"Well, you're a mu-" Ah, that's good, insult her just before you need to ask for her help. "I mean," he corrected himself, "you're Muggle-born, aren't you?"  
  
Hermione's hands fell to her sides and she turned around to stare at him. "AM I, Draco?" Am I? With all of the times you've called me a mudblood, I would imagine you'd be pretty sure."  
  
He wasn't sure how to respond. One wrong word and she'd never help him. He'd be stuck here all night. "Look, Hermione, I've never cleaned anything the Muggle way before."  
  
"Have you ever cleaned anything at all before? Or do your father's house elves take care of that?"  
  
"Don't tell me you're still on a 'save-the-house-elves' kick-"  
  
"It's cruel! Admit it, your house elves do all of the cleaning for you."  
  
"Well, yeah, but that's their job."  
  
"Do you pay them?" Hermione's eyes were narrowed. "What salary do they earn for this 'job'? Because I don't think it's a job, Draco. Seems more like slavery to me." She turned back to her trophy and cleaned furiously. Draco mimicked her actions. Soon, the plaque he'd been polishing was shining brightly. Oddly satisfied, he moved on to the next one. Hermione was quite well ahead of him, but he was catching up. However, he made sure there was a look of lofty superiority and disgust at the very lowness of this job written across his face. No need to actually look like he didn't mind it. Hermione hurried past him, completely finished with her side of the room. His arm tingled and burned where she'd brushed up against him and he felt his face flush slightly. He struggled to regain his composure, but there was no use. Hermione was already gone. 


	5. Draco's Plan and The Jewelry Shop

Chapter Six  
  
Draco made his way back to the Slytherin fifth-year boys' dormitories nearly half an hour after he finished cleaning. He knew it was probably ridiculously late, but he was too lazy to bother checking. As he climbed into bed and his head hit the pillow, he thought his eyes would shut and he would fall asleep immediately, exhausted as he felt, but there was no such luck to be had. His mind was too active. Draco sighed, knowing exactly what was bothering him, but unwilling to think about it further. Yet it seemed like if he wanted any peace of mind at all, he needed to confront it. There was no denying it any longer that what Draco felt when Hermione brushed against him was nothing other than attraction. But why? He supposed Hermione was rather pretty, in a way, if you could get past all of that bushy hair. But it was more than that. What he had previously seen as an obnoxious, know-it-all attitude, he now saw as one of her most prominent charms, and the traits that set her apart from some of the Slytherin girls Draco was used to. Hermione felt no need to impress him, and she had no reason to simper and whine all over him like Pansy did. Hermione couldn't stand Draco.And therein lay the problem. Draco was the sort of guy who lived for the chase. He liked when girls played hard-to-get, and he enjoyed the challenge of winning them over. But once they were officially "a couple", he lost interest completely. Which, he reckoned, was exactly what he needed to do with Hermione. Because as soon as he had her falling for him, he would get bored and, hopefully, return to his senses. All well and good in theory, but how could he get Hermione to return his feelings? It was going to be difficult. After a few minutes of deep thought, he decided to try a secretive approach. He would act no differently around Hermione. and thank God for that, because he didn't think he could bear to openly flirt with a Gryffindor mud- damn, he'd have to use another word now- in public. But he could send her little anonymous notes and gifts. He almost laughed at how cliché that sounded. But clichés became clichés by being overused- they worked, so people used them over and over. Right? It seemed perfectly logical. The coming weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend, giving him a perfectly convenient way to start his plan. With that settled, his mind was clear. He was convinced that once he won Hermione's affections, he would completely forget about her... and now, he could sleep.  
  
*** The week slid by quickly enough. Their projects were turned in on Friday, and Draco was confident that he would finally get a good grade on a project for Professor Nightshade, as Hermione had done about 99% of the work on the report. The only bit they might have lost points on was when they did the oral presentation, because Hermione hadn't told Draco that she had switched to the defense of werewolves at the last minute. "I can't believe you!" he'd exclaimed when they'd finished. "You didn't tell us that you completely switched the topic around-" "I didn't switch the topic," murmured Hermione as she rummaged through her bookbag. "The report is still about werewolves; I only changed our point of view." Draco scowled. "You made me look like an idiot." Hermione glared at him. "Not exactly a difficult thing to do, is it?" "Nice one, Granger; did you come up with that all by yourself?" Draco scowled again. He knew, if he was ever going to get past this, that he would have to try and be a tiny bit nicer to Hermione. But- the way he was falling for her like mad, and at the same time ready to grab her by the neck and- just- strangle her. Pansy came up behind him at that moment, hands on her hips. "We're going to get points taken off for this, you know," she whined. "I need to get a good grade in this class! If you hadn't decided to take charge and- and- ruin everything-" Hermione gave her a withering look. "Pansy," she began slowly, then shook her head. "It's not worth it." She sighed. "Did it ever occur to either of you that I was the one who wrote the entire essay? Did it? Or how about the fact that I was the one who spent hours in the library over the weekend researching and researching and preparing my data so that I could get a decent grade for all of us?" "Like you had anything better to do over the weekend, Granger," said Draco with a wave of his hand. Mentally, he was kicking himself. You're supposed to be making her like you! Idiot. "Yeah," agreed Pansy with a sniff. Draco glared at her, and she shut her mouth, reminding him once again why he preferred Hermione over the pug- faced little- "If you'll excuse me," said Hermione, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "I have places to be, and I don't have time to discuss this with you." Pansy wrinkled her nose. "What, do you have more classes to go to?" She looked at Draco, expecting to see him smiling approvingly at her lame excuse for an insult. He just closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "I have to go," he told her. "I'm meeting some people at Hogsmeade in an hour." "Oooh, can I come?" "No," he said flatly. Pansy blinked. "Oh," she said, disappointed. "Well. I guess I'll. see if I can find some of my friends." she finished lamely. "That's nice," said Draco absently, grabbing his notebook and textbook and heading out the door. He was already quite preoccupied.  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Draco tried his hardest to avoid Crabbe and Goyle following him into Hogsmeade. The last thing I need is those two figuring out. His thoughts trailed off. Even in the privacy of his own mind, he didn't like to admit what he was up to. Although, Crabbe and Goyle probably wouldn't tell anybody. They, and their fathers, were too afraid of Lucius Malfoy. Draco liked to believe that he only put up with them because of his father. But the fact that they were considerably larger than most of the other boys in his year, and seemed to have no minds of their own, thus providing him with a constant, impressive entourage, helped. He left Crabbe and Goyle gulping down butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks and made his way down the street. He found a small jewelry store and walked inside in a bit of a daze, still a bit unsure as to what he intended to do. Madame Selena's Jeweled Enchantments read the ornately designed brass sign that hung above the revolving doors at the entrance. As he walked through, a chiming sound alerted a thin old witch dressed in many layers of gauzy, multicolored robes, who stood up from a chair behind a long glass counter. Her silver-rimmed glasses hung by a purple beaded chain around her neck and she adjusted them onto the tip of her nose, peering at Draco through the narrow frames. "Oh hello there, dear," she said breezily, smiling. "You must be the Malfoy boy." She beamed. "You look just like your father. why, I remember him coming in her when he was your age. buying gifts for his girlfriend. what was her name? Natasha- Narissa-" "Narcissa," muttered Draco absently, squinting at the brightly lit counter, filled with countless pairs of earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and other baubles. "She's my mother." "How sweet!" said the old woman. "I knew he'd win her over eventually, with all those-" Draco was no longer listening. How do I make her shut up? He frowned, and pointed at a beautiful silver bracelet, set with emeralds and tiny diamonds. "Can I see that one?" he asked.  
"Ah, yes, a lovely piece." The witch- she had to be "Madame Selena"- unlocked the case and brought out the bracelet, which she handed to Draco. It was cold and heavy in the palm of his hand. He held it up to the light, studying it. "Fine craftsmanship." continued Madame Selena. "Are you looking for a gift for your little girlfriend, my dear?" Draco bristled. "She's not my girfriend!" he exclaimed. He handed the bracelet back to the witch. "I'd like to see something else." Madame Selena looked surprised. She cleared her throat, and wiped her glasses on one of the many layers of her flowing sleeve. "I see," she said with a small smile, "not your girlfriend yet, eh? Well, I daresay she will be soon." Not intending to lose a potential customer, she picked another bracelet from the tray. "How about this one?" Nice, thought Draco, as he studied the piece of jewelry in his hand. "Is this silver?" he asked. "White gold," said Madame Selena. "Inlaid with several small diamonds - two carats in all - and some lovely rubies. A bit pricey," she added, "but worth every sickle." Draco held the bracelet in his hand for a few moments, then made his decision. "I'll take it," he said. "Excellent," said Madame Selena. She took the bracelet and began the achingly long process of wrapping it up- first in a box lined thickly with gauze, which she wrapped in silver paper and tied with a golden bow, which then went into a silver bag embossed with stars and crescent moons which was filled with glittery gold tissue paper, which, finally, was tied with another large, poofy bow. Draco blinked. He was supposed to carry that thing around? "I can't carry that with me!" he said, shocked. "Why not?" "Well- it's- I just-" Draco scowled, and grabbed the bag. Having paid a ridiculously steep price for the thing, he might as well have it wrapped nicely. And he could never do such an excellent job on the bag as that. As he left, he tried to shove the bag inside his robes. But the frilly gold bow kept popping out. He heard someone snicker as he hurried past Honeydukes. Turning around, he saw that it was none other than Ron Weasley. Ron laughed, and stuck his head into the shop. "Fred, George," he called, "have a look at this." He turned back to Draco. "What've you got there?" He looks as though he's thoroughly enjoying this, thought Draco. Idiot. Doesn't he have anything better to do? "I'm sorry, Weasley," he responded. "Haven't you ever seen one of these? It's a bag, from a shop. You know, one of those places where you buy things? Not that I'd expect you to know anything about that. When's the last time your family could afford to buy you some decent robes?" he asked sarcastically, taking in the too-short length of Ron's rather worn school robes, which appeared to be on their last legs. Ron's ears went pink. "Shut up, Malfoy." Draco shook his head in disgust and began walking away. "I saw you leave the jewelry shop, Malfoy- who's your girlfriend?" Draco turned around again. "Feeling brave, Weasel?" he smirked. Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, stepped out of the shop. "What's going on?" George asked. He then caught sight of Draco, and his face broke into an evil grin. Draco scowled. "I don't have time for this." He turned away again. "Scared, Malfoy?" jeered Ron. He simply ignored the other boy. He wanted to get back to his dormitory as soon as possible. Let Ron have his fun- he was only that brave when he had his friends or older brothers to back him up, anyway. Draco chose to ignore the fact that it was the absence of Crabbe and Goyle which had prevented him from finishing the disagreement. This bloody plan, he thought agitatedly, once safely back in the Slytherin fifth-year boys' dormitory, had better work. 


	6. Back in the Classroom

Chapter 8  
  
Draco dashed down the stairs to the Slytherin common room, the festively- adorned gift stuffed securely under his robes. With any luck, everyone else would still be at Hogsmeade, or at least on their way back, and he could hide this damn package quickly and without notice. He turned the corner down into the last corridor quickly, and slammed directly into none other than Pansy Parkinson.  
  
Dammit...  
  
Pansy fell back, landing with a thump on the stone floor. "Oof!" She sat up and fixed her gaze immediately onto Draco- so much for slipping away unnoticed while the girl was still dazed.  
  
"Draco!" she squealed, grinning like a madwoman. "You're back!" She sat there for a moment, blank-faced. Then- "Aren't you going to help me up?" she pouted.  
  
"Oh- right.." Draco extended one hand, using the other to keep the gift- wrapped bag hidden under his robe, grabbed Pansy by the wrist and yanked her up. "Sorry."  
  
"What've you got under there?" asked Pansy coyly, pointing to his chest. "What are you hiding, Draco?" she teased in a sing-song sort of voice.  
  
Ten more seconds of this and I'm going to kill myself, he thought.  
  
"A new book I had to buy for one of my classes. I didn't want it to get wet," he lied. Pansy was stupid, but surprisingly tricky when it came to matters of romance. If she suspected anything...  
  
"But it's not raining outside, Draco, I was just out there on my way back from Hogsmeade, I had such a great time, too, we saw Crabbe and Goyle at the Three Broomsticks but you weren't there and I was really surprised, but I guess you must've been in the bookshop because-"  
  
"Pansy," he said slowly, "do me a favor."  
  
"Ooh, what?"  
  
"Shut the hell up."  
  
He turned sharply and left her standing in the corridor, looking as though she'd been slapped. Draco felt quite pleased, actually, smiling self- assuredly as he strolled into the empty common room.  
  
Then he remembered what he was doing, shut the door, and bolted down to they boys' dormitory to stash the ridiculous gift somewhere until he could figure out how to get it to Hermione without anyone else noticing.  
  
***  
  
Draco woke up early Monday morning. Waking up in general usually made him feel irritated, and the fact that it was only 6:00 A.M. and a Monday, a day on which he had to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors in three hours, and the day on which he had chosen to somehow sneak Hermione her new bracelet, only made him feel decidedly more cranky.  
  
He stuck his head under the covers for a moment. The present was sitting on the pillow next to him, the only place where, feeling paranoid, he had deemed it safe from discovery. The bow was a little crumpled from where he had rolled over on top of it, but otherwise it appeared to be fine.  
  
He shoved the bag into some sort of black, leather-covered satchel-backpack thing that his mother had bought for him over the summer as a back-to- school gift. It was dusty and still stuffed with the green tissue paper the store had provided to help the bag keep its shape while out of use. It was admittedly rather nice-looking, actually, but Draco had always felt silly when he imagined himself toting it around school. Now, however, he had no choice.  
  
Draco skipped breakfast, choosing instead to spend the time brooding in the common room. He was sick of having to look at Pansy's sad-puppy faces across the table and had to finish up a reading assignment for Astronomy, anyway. Aside from all that, he wanted to be sure the rest of the school was at breakfast before he carried out his ridiculous plan.  
  
It involved him slipping into Professor Nightshade's classroom unnoticed and before she arrived that morning. Draco personally thought she never left the dusty room, and quite possibly slept under the desk, but he had seen her in the Great Hall for breakfast most mornings- around 7 o'clock. Another 15 minutes and he would head up to her room.  
  
He would carefully hide a note under the chair where he knew Hermione sat. He'd already written it, on fine parchment and in inconspicuous black ink.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
If you come by the Astronomy Tower after this class, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. You don't by any chance fancy diamonds and rubies, do you? I thought you might.  
  
Best regards, A Secret Admirer  
  
It was contrived, silly, stupid, and cliche, which was what he had been hoping for, really. He had balked at signing it "With love", but "Sincerely" sounded too business-like. And girls loved that Astronomy Tower, lovey-dovey crap, didn't they?  
  
Checking the time once more, he grabbed his bag- satchel- whatever the hell it was, books, and the note, and ran out to plant the gift and note before the halls began filling with students.  
*** The package went into position without any problems. He wasn't seen, and it looked splendid sitting in the east window of the tower in the early morning sun. Any normal woman would love it. Whether or not that included Hermione, of course, remained to be seen.  
  
He had just set the note under Hermione's desk (right where she would have to set her books down before being seated) and had nonchalantly begun to leave when he heard the door to Nightshade's classroom creak open. His stomach actually lurched, and he froze for a second.  
  
In walked none other than Professor Nightshade.  
  
"What are you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She had a large stack of books which she dropped heavily onto her desk, sending up little poofs of dust into the air. "Class doesn't begin for almost another hour. I've never known you to consider punctuality a top priority."  
  
Needanexcuseneedanexcuseneedanex-  
  
"I was just looking for my notes from last Friday, Professor," he responded calmly, pulling out a roll of parchment from his bag. "I wanted to- to review them before class today. I remembered you saying something about a quiz."  
  
Nightshade raised an eyebrow. "How good of you to remember, Mr. Malfoy." She paused, and smiled. "In the meantime, while you're here, you can help me sort these papers."  
  
"Er- well, I was really planning on grabbing some breakfast first. If I have time, I'll be sure to stop by afterwards-"  
  
Well, that was stupid. He really should be doing a bit of buttering up to Nightshade, he needed to pull a decent grade in the class and for whatever reason, Defense Against the Dark Arts was rather important as far as O.W.L.S. were concerned. Too late now. Nightshade fixed her gaze on him rather irritatedly, then nodded.  
  
"Right, Mr. Malfoy, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all..." She glanced down at the papers scattered across her desk. "I'd get going, if I were you, anyway, considering I'm about to grade your essay test from last week. I have the strangest feeling that I won't be too pleas- "  
  
Draco didn't need a second warning. He was out the door and headed downstairs before she ever finished the sentence.  
  
Please don't let anyone see me carrying this bloody bag, please-  
  
Why had he bothered to take it? He could have managed to fit the bag under his robe, couldn't he? Stupid plan... It looked like a purse, he was carrying a purse.. if anyone saw him-  
  
"What've you got there, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco turned around. Bloody hell, it was Potter and Weasley. "I don't have time for this, Weasley," he spat as he whisked past them.  
  
"What's that- a purse?"  
  
"NO, Weasel, it's not a purse, it's a dragonhide bookbag. I suppose you're not used to seeing one patched up and full of holes."  
  
It was actually made of plain old boring leather- but hopefully Weasley couldn't tell the difference. He was all the way downstairs and in the Slytherin dungeons before Weasley bothered  
  
Of course, dear little Potty and the Weasel would be having a field day with all of this. Well, it simply wasn't fair. Draco was supposed to be tormenting them, and not the other way around.  
  
The things he did for lo-  
  
NOT love, more like... a strange attraction, he reminded himself furiously.  
  
He slumped down in a green and silver armchair near the fireplace of the common room after shoving the satchel-thing back under his bed where it belonged. He didn't feel like eating, and there was nothing to do but wait, anyway.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
After what seemed like two hours' wait, Draco finally cracked and allowed himself to peek at his watch, something he had been avoiding, knowing it would make the agonizing hour he had left until Defense Against the Dark Arts even more unbearable.  
  
Ten minutes past the hour.  
  
Damn it.  
  
He tried pacing around the common room, he tried watching the clock, he even tried reading, but all to no avail. Finally he just sat back down and stared sullenly at his shoes, which, he noticed, could do with a good polish. Not that he'd bother with it himself. He'd leave them out later on for one of the house elves that he knew came to clean the common room every night.  
  
Oh, bet Hermione'd love to hear that, he thought with a small smirk.  
  
He checked his watch again. Only ten more minutes had passed.  
  
This was getting ridiculous.  
  
The common room was still empty. Figuring he'd better leave now, before anyone who'd forgotten a book or quill (or anyone named Pansy Parkinson, for that matter) came in. Draco was not in a mood to deal with people today. He scowled, grabbed his books and last week's homework, and dashed up the stairs, happily unseen. His plan was to head for the library. Pansy wouldn't be caught dead in there unless physically forced to (or unless she thought she might be able to share a little study session of sorts with Draco- but even someone as thick as Pansy ought to have figured out that he wanted nothing to do with her at all...), so he figured he was safe. He shoved his way past a group of tittering first years and arrived in the library rather noisily and rather out of breath, earning him a decidedly perturbed glance from Madame Pince.  
  
Scowling at her, he dropped his books loudly on a small rickety table and sat down with a thud. The clock on the wall informed him that he had taken precisely four minutes to make it to the library. Which meant he had thirty- six minutes to go before Defense Against the Dark Arts. He would have to get there at least a few minutes early- before Hermione did, anyway. If he waited in the library for ten more minutes he should be alright.  
  
Madam Pince was still glaring at him. Draco smiled at her, then proceeded to tap his fingers upon the table, drumming steadily. Thirty seconds later he added a bit of humming and foot-tapping.  
  
Draco's amusement lasted only for about fifteen seconds. Madam Pince jumped out of her seat, glaring at him. The noise he'd made had been minimal, true, but in the dead silence of the library (he was the only student present, after all) you could've heard a flea drop from someone's head (someone like Weasley, Draco thought, suppressing a smirk) as clearly as you'd hear a cave troll bellowing in your ear.  
  
Speaking of a cave troll bellowing in your ear-  
  
"EXCUSE ME, Mr. Malfoy, but I will NOT tolerate this kind of nonsense in MY library. So I'm going to have to ask you to take Draco Malfoy's Amazing One- Man Band elsewhere before I pencil you in for detention this evening!"  
  
Draco Malfoy's One-Man Band had a nice ring to it, he thought, collecting his bags and making his way purposefully downstairs. He'd never seen Pince get quite so.. violent. But, he supposed, everyone must snap at some point.  
  
As he approached Nightshade's door, he began to have serious second thoughts. It was obviously too late for those, but that didn't stop his stomach from becoming all squirmy and flittery. Squirmy and flittery were not words Draco had ever used to describe any feelings he'd ever had, and he rather wished he hadn't had to start now. Perhaps he should have eaten some breakfast.  
  
The room was nearly empty. Nightshade had apparently run off to go kill some baby bunny rabbits or whatever vile things she did in her spare time, and the only other students in the room were Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan, chatting boredly; just three Gryffindors Draco couldn't have cared less about, seated toward the middle. Draco slipped in to his usual desk- back of the room, left-hand corner.  
  
His eyes kept darting nervously toward the door. A few Slytherins wandered in, as well as the two other Gryffindor girls, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.  
  
Where the hell was Hermione? Less than ten minutes to go and she still hadn't shown up. Draco began to wonder if he ought to have planned something flashier than a simple note. Then he started worrying that Nightshade had seen him stick it under Hermione's desk, and had taken it or intended to use it to make a bigger fool out of Draco than he'd already managed to do to himself this past week or so.  
  
Then Hermione strolled in, arguing with that moron Weasley, while Potter stood behind them, looking amused. At that instant Draco would have sworn on his mother's life that his stomach had just performed a back flip. Just nerves, you just don't want anyone to find out it's you that wrote the note, he told himself.  
  
And there she was, sitting at her desk, bending forward to slide her books onto the bookrack underneath- she had spotted the note. She read it, a faint frown creasing her forehead. She looked up, scanned the room, then sat back down, slipping the note into her bag. She was still frowning slightly. She hadn't noticed him, and Potter and Weasley had no idea what had even just occured. Words couldn't describe the enormous sense of relief he felt, which was soon replaced by a knot in his stomach. Hermione might not go for it. She might think it was a trick, or be otherwise suspicious in anyway. And then, of course, the little problem that she might not like his first gift, that she would never, ever fall for him, and that his plan would fail miserably in the end after all.  
  
Nightshade walked in, shouting as usual and brandishing an enormous pile of paperwork. "Terrible- absolutely dreadful- never seen anything like it in my ENTIRE career as a TEACHER..."  
  
Draco scowled again, sighed, and leaned boredly against the wall, eyes half- closed. The entire situation was proving to be much more complex than he'd ever thought. 


	7. The Astronomy Tower

Chapter 10  
  
Professor Nightshade had shouted, threatened the entire class with more Unforgivable Curses, and expressed complete and utter exasperation at her students' lack of interest in anything she so valiantly tried to teach them for nearly an hour before she realized she'd never actually handed back their papers. With a flick and a sharp jab of her wand, the papers fluttered into the air and landed gently upon the desk of their respective students. Draco noticed that he hadn't really performed that badly- 15 out of 20 on one of Nightshade's essay tests was almost commendable. He had almost stuffed the sheet of parchment into the back of his textbook when he noticed it- the name, written in careful, curving script in the right-hand corner of the paper.  
  
Hermione Granger  
  
Without thinking at all on what he planned on doing with the paper, Draco shoved it into his History of Magic book (the only textbook he'd remembered to bring) as originally intended and raised his hand.  
  
"Professor Nightshade?" he called politely, when the teacher did not look up from her desk.  
  
Nightshade glanced up at him, and sighed. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"I didn't get my paper passed back to me."  
  
The teacher frowned, and looked around the room. "Does anyone have Mr. Malfoy's essay test by mistake?"  
  
Not at surprisingly, it was Granger who raised her hand. "I did, Professor." Hermione looked slightly worried. "But I didn't get my own paper back, either."  
  
Nightshade took the paper from Hermione, passed it over to Draco, and frowned. "So no one got Miss Granger's assignment by mistake, then? Don't think you're going to get to keep her grade if you have. She was the only one of the whole lot of you who actually passed. I have all your scores recorded already..." She sighed. "Very well, Miss Granger- I'll look around and see if I haven't got your paper; for now, I can tell you your score, at the very least..."  
  
The bell rang shortly after; Draco saw Hermione leave the classroom apart from Ron and Harry. She bid them farewell and headed in the opposite direction- upstairs.  
  
Draco grinned. It was working...  
  
As he left the classroom a few feet behind Hermione, her crumpled essay test in hand, a new brilliant idea struck him. Of course.  
  
He waited until Hermione was almost at the door leading to the Astronomy Tower.  
  
"Hey, Gra-"  
  
No, that wouldn't do. Draco cleared his throat, and shouted more loudly. "Hermione!"  
  
She turned around, saw who it was, and frowned. "What do you want?"  
  
He waved the smudged and crumpled parchment in front of him. "Your essay test. I found it on the floor just outside Nightshade's room. Looks like someone must've stepped on it, though." He handed it to her. "Thought you might want it."  
  
Hermione looked shocked, and then her expression softened ever-so-slightly. "Well- thank you, Draco." He nodded, and she turned to head up the stairs again.  
  
Draco at first thought he ought to leave- then yet another thought struck him. He couldn't keep this up for much longer. He couldn't keep buying her expensive gifts, leaving secret notes, and acting cryptically nice to Grang- Hermione for no apparent reason. It just wasn't going to work. He wanted this over, and he wanted it over now.  
  
Unbeknownst to Hermione, he followed her into the Tower, shutting the door oh-so-smoothly behind him. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he knew he had to do something.  
  
He heard Hermione let out a soft "Ooh" as she opened the package. He saw her hold the bracelet up to the light, admiring the way it sparkled in the light.  
  
Draco leaned against the wall behind her. She must have heard something, because she turned, sharply, her expression one of surprise and alarm.  
  
"What are you-"  
  
Her words were cut off. Draco wasn't thinking. He leaned closer, smiled, pulled Hermione forward, and kissed her. Right there between the telescopes and star charts, useless in the bright morning sunshine. On the lips.  
  
Hermione made a sort of squeaking sound and then began to shout something rude at him, her voice muffled, as she tried to shove Draco away.  
  
After a few seconds, she had most definately stopped protesting.  
  
If Draco's lips hadn't been otherwise engaged at the moment, he would have smirked. He'd always known he must be a damn good kisser. 


End file.
